


Fated

by shadowshrike



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Vignettes, Xander needs an heir by blood, only present in the last chapter, strangers to enemies to friends to lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 06:45:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15189101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowshrike/pseuds/shadowshrike
Summary: Inexplicably intertwined, two men who've lived very different lives find comfort in their similarities. A story of five meetings that guided their destiny.





	1. The First Meeting - Childhood

**Author's Note:**

> Shaking off my fic writing rust with a little exercise in a different style using my favorite pair. As always, I hope you enjoy reading as much as I like dreaming up these things.

_ “Fate is a tempest that leads us down the most unexpected of paths.” _

 

When they first met, it was the kind of brief meeting people talk about fondly to their children with all the romance of a fairy tale, pretending it didn’t take them a dozen years of fitting half-remembered events together to even realize it had happened. There aren’t many who can recall their youth with crystal clarity. Fanciful experiences all blur together through the lens of adulthood: the friends, the laughs, the encounters that seem more like wishful figments of a child’s imagination than reality. Memories become dreams when a childhood is stolen. In their case, duty and war killed their boyhood before they could fully grasp it in young hands.

But their first meeting was before the war. It was before the failures which shaped them as men, before their families broke beyond repair, and before they had a notion of any hatred deeper than what they felt when they weren’t allowed candy for every meal.

It was a windy day in Hoshido. The sun cut through the canopy in jagged, dancing beams. A young prince, adorned with dark clothes and boyish curls, held up a hand to shield delicate eyes from the harsh light. He peered through the sea of green to catch sight of the trail he had followed, ignoring the hum of bugs around his ears who were undeterred by the strong breeze. Round and round he turned, short legs trembling.

He was lost. Even if he wanted to ask for help, an act that was either brave or disgraceful depending on which of his parents he listened to, there was no one here to ask. Xander had wandered off chasing wildflowers like his father had warned him not to and now he would be stranded forever in this foreign forest. The path was gone and there wasn’t another soul in sight. He couldn’t even see the birds whose songs carried from somewhere far away. He was completely, utterly alone.

Xander plopped down on a fallen log with the grace of a blind goose. Some small part of him hoped that one of his tutors would pop out from behind the trees to scold him for behaving like a commoner. If there was one thing for which they could be counted on, it was always knowing when he wasn’t being a good prince.

They didn’t come. Xander tucked his knees into his body, dropped his head into little hands, and wept.

“Are you lost?”

The tiny prince jumped to his feet, whirling about to find the source of the oddly accented voice. It reminded him of Prince Ryoma’s - so young and rounded by Hoshidan sounds that he barely understood it. More importantly, it sounded like it was nearby. But as Xander turned, he still found nothing but green.

Maybe it was a spirit. The Hoshidan King had told him about them once. He said his land was filled with them, and if the little prince was ever was lost or frightened, he could call out for help and one would guide him home. Xander’s father had called it nonsense at the time and Xander was inclined to agree. Even if they did exist, how would a tree or a rock or a river spirit be able to help him home? It wasn’t as though they could move. Maybe they could give him directions, but how would a rock know where anything was outside of its grove, even if he put it in his pocket?

Well, useless spirit or not, the prince was happy no longer be alone. At least he had someone to talk to now. Xander called back into the forest, “I am. Can you help me?”

“Maybe. Why are you here?” the voice pushed back.

“I’m Crown Prince Xander of Nohr,” Xander answered, puffing out his chest like a tiny bird on display. “I’m here on important ambassador business. Who are you?”

He secretly hoped this mysterious voice was a wind spirit. Wind was everywhere; it might stand a chance at finding his family.

It wasn’t until one of the bundles of green in the trees moved closer that Xander realized his companion wasn’t a spirit of any sort after all. It was a young boy. He blended in perfectly with the forest from the tips of his messy green hair to the strange wooden sandals on his feet, moving so quietly that Xander couldn’t hear him over the whisper of a breeze through the leaves. There was purpose in his steps and a clever smile just shy of his lips. He peered up at Xander with a piercing violet gaze.

Xander didn’t know the words for them then, but as an adult he would call Kaze’s eyes during their first meeting keen yet kind. 

“My name is Suzukaze,” the boy replied, bowing how Xander had seen other Hoshidan servants do in the castle. “And it would be my honor to escort you back to your people, Prince Xander of Nohr.”


	2. The Second Meeting - Enemies

The second time they cross paths is so many years and hardships later that they have already forgotten each other’s faces. There’s no room for the chance friendships of youth in a merciless world, one where Nohrian and Hoshidan were adversaries by virtue of existing. They’ve been twisted by the needs of two nations at war into men their boyhood selves would hardly recognize. During this second encounter, they are enemies as far apart as a rabbit digging through the mud for its meal and the hawk that circles over its head.

The stone in Nohr was cold. A chill seeped through the thin fabric of Kaze’s tattered pants as if he was kneeling in a bank of snow rather than before the black throne. It came as no surprise to him; everything in Nohr was touched by ice and darkness. The sky, the earth, even the eyes of their royalty whose judgement bore down upon him from on high felt frigid to a man accustomed to the sun’s warmth.

Kaze would die here in service to Hoshido. It was an honor to be granted a warrior’s death; perhaps the greatest a failure like him could hope for. At last, he had found his destiny, not in service to Hoshido’s lords, but in death for the sake of duty. Where he had once been negligent, he could finally prove he was capable of serving his country competently. Peace washed over Kaze - with this bloody atonement would come the cleansing of his soul he had awaited for so long.

However, another face, one seared into his memory with a flame more intense than his brother’s explosive temper, denied him his justice. 

Kaze opened his eyes after losing his battle to the sight of a canopy more ornate than he had ever laid under. The gilded motifs and translucent silks spoke of obscene wealth, their workmanship so fine that he’d only ever seen their like in Castle Shirasagi. But this place didn’t bear the Hoshidan colors of the rising sun. Black, gold, and the color of crushed cranberries, everything that surrounded him echoed the coolness of night. Kaze silently cursed fate’s cruel design. 

Trying to sit up, he found his hands bound to the bed, carefully trussed up by the wrists in a way that made him feel like a pig ready for slaughter. Heavy footsteps trailed up to the bed, now aware of its occupant’s conscious status.

“Do not try to move. You have been spared, but you are still an enemy of Nohr. Do you understand?”

That voice, even softened by the need for secrecy, reverberated in Kaze’s marrow. Its commanding timbre could only have one owner: the crown prince who had been ready to strike him down on the palace floor mere moments (or was it hours?) before.

Kaze nodded his agreement. He couldn’t see the other’s face to discern whether that was an acceptable answer. He hoped his silence would be taken as respect rather than insubordination.

The bed dipped and rough hands laid on a wound he had forgotten obtaining, forcing Kaze’s eyes to shut against the pain. He spoke again, “You will not survive travel from Nohr with a wound like that. I will bandage your injuries.”

One lavender eye cracked open. A stare of overwhelming intensity greeted him, the same stern gaze which had judged him worthy of death not long ago. The prince’s face could have been carved from stone with its sharp planes and unyielding expression. In contrast, gentle curls hung down to frame to the severity of his brow, bouncing off his harsh cheekbones. 

Kaze had never seen hair like that in Hoshido. He briefly wondered if the golden ringlets were as soft as they looked. Then he wondered if anyone knew the answer other than the prince’s mother. The crown prince didn’t seem like the type of man who welcomed an invasion of his space.

On the other hand, he had no qualms invading the space of his prisoner. For all the hardness in his eyes, his hands were not unkind upon Kaze’s flesh. His movements remained steadfast, efficiently disinfecting and mending the already purpling skin without the aid of magic as only a warrior who had spent many missions alone in the field could. 

Kaze might have thought it an oddity in Hoshido. Only men like ninjas knew these skills, certainly not royalty who had servants and retainers to tend to their health. But Nohr was not Hoshido, and the customs and logic Kaze had built his world around held no weight here. After the realization that he, a common prisoner of war, was being treated in the crown prince’s quarters, anything seemed reasonable.

The prince finished his work in silence, patting the bandages once after they had been set and rising to his feet so his taciturn expression was out of Kaze’s field of vision again. 

“You will be released tonight,” he said.

“Why are you doing this?” Kaze croaked in return. His voice was weak from the beating he’d taken, but the question pounded too urgently in his head to remain mute.

Kaze waited for retreating footsteps, the sound of a prince inevitably dismissing a prisoner’s question as not worth answering. He should have known by now that Nohr was bound to surprise him. 

“Because you aren’t meant to die today,” the prince returned. A lock’s bolts clicked into an open position. “Do not waste my family’s mercy.”

When the door eased shut behind him, lock snapping back into place, Kaze pondered how best to fulfill his wish.


	3. The Third Meeting - Comrades

In many ways, their third meeting may have well been their first. Not their literal third meeting, of course. When the armies merged, their paths crossed again almost immediately. It saw them settle into a comfortable cadence of battling side by side long before they spoke beyond pleasantries. Their union on the battlefield was as natural as a flower and a bee finding one another. They effortlessly complimented each other’s weaknesses, the prince’s imposing wall playing counter to Kaze’s speed and precision. 

But this comraderie through combat was not their true third meeting. That occured when they first spoke as companions, acknowledging one another as people rather than names on the war map.

It happened on an unremarkable evening after an equally unremarkable day. Camp hummed with the soothing familiarity of routine, no surprises in their schedules as the troops went on with their itinerary of training, planning, and squabbling over the least desirable chores of the day. Shops were stocked as expected and wages paid on time. Even the disagreements between Nohrian and Hoshidan remained civil enough that the leaders of the army could take a break from their endless babysitting, which left them with more free time to mingle with their soldiers rather than addressing formal complaints behind a desk. 

These days were Xander’s favorites. He took pride in knowing those under his command - their quirks and desires. Loyalty was a hard-won commodity in a place like Nohr. To gain the trust of his followers, especially those who were once his enemies, required an intimate understanding of how to bring them joy. For some, it was getting word from their families. Others required nostalgic items or bonus pay. But by and large, the most common fix for a demoralized soldier was the same: comfort food.

That was why Xander took his meals in the mess with the commoners, even when he wasn’t on duty to prepare dinner. If he did not feel like pursuing a friendly interrogation, he still could learn by watching others over his meal. It was a veritable smorgasbord - and the food usually wasn’t bad either.

_ Usually _ . 

Looking over the expanse of Hoshidan beans, some of whose smells could only be likened to the stench of unwashed privates, Xander’s stomach flipped. He tried to tell himself that if something bad was going to break up the all-encompassing averageness of today, dinner was relatively harmless. The bile rising in his throat disagreed.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Kaze offered as he stepped up beside Xander and took a scoopful of something that looked vaguely like bread that had already been digested once. “Try that brown one. The flavor should be less overpowering.”

Xander was lucky he didn’t startle easily. His heart leapt into his throat but his feet stayed firmly planted, having never heard Kaze approach before he spoke. The ninja must have just finished his rounds for the day and swung by the mess for dinner. Once his initial shock at being ambushed while contemplating how much alcohol it would take to burn the smell of this dinner from his nose subsided, Xander silently praised the gods for sending him someone familiar with Hoshidan foods to take pity on him. 

“That is good to know. I’m afraid I am not familiar with Hoshidan cuisine. Thank you for your recommendation,” he said and placed a serving of brownish goop with chunks that he hoped were meat on his plate.

A subtle smile lit up Kaze’s face. “I would be honored to assist you, Prince Xander. I’ve found sharing cultures with my new Nohrian comrades an enjoyable pastime.”

That much Xander knew. He hadn’t paid it much mind with how hectic keeping the peace had been, but whenever Kaze’s name came up in conversation while talking with anyone, Nohrian or Hoshidan, it was always accompanied by glowing praise. He was easily the most popular man in the army. What the prince had initially attributed to Kaze’s undeniably good looks and prowess in battle, Xander now, after dozens of stories from all over the army, believed was a result of his helpful attitude, open mind, and humble nature. There was a genuine desire to help others beneath the hardened warrior, the sort of heartfelt kindness that was born of equal parts innate amiability and suffering. Where it came from, Xander couldn’t say.

Well, he had come here in order to learn about his comrades, hadn’t he?

“I would appreciate your guidance. The color and smell of these foods are…” Xander struggled to find a less offensive description than ‘akin to what I feed my cat’. “...unusual in Nohr.”

“I can imagine. This is not the most accessible of meals,” Kaze said. “Here, try this. I think you will find it refreshing.”

Xander eyed the pink, soggy slices that Kaze placed on his plate with practiced diplomatic caution, too subtle to be read as fear. He firmly reminded himself that he could not earn Kaze’s trust if he did not give it first. Steeling his courage as he did before any harrowing battle, Xander’s face set into a menacing glower. He stabbed one of the largest pieces with a fork and popped the entire thing into his mouth.

Kaze was right, it was refreshing. It had a sharp, bright flavor, so intense that it almost felt like a burst of flame in his mouth. Xander ground it in his teeth to get out more of the curious taste. 

That little flame grew with every bite, steadily overwhelming the flavor. Having only downed half of it, the discomfort in Xander’s mouth grew from as mild as a bug bite to searing heat. A burning, blistering heat. ‘It would have been preferable to pour sparks from a bonfire under his tongue’ kind of heat. 

Xander hacked and sputtered, trying to swallow the thing before it did too much damage. A crown prince couldn’t spit out food, especially not food recommended to him by someone he wanted to get to know better, but coughing until he was red in the face was more of a grey area.

The sound of Kaze’s laughter, muffled by a polite fist in front of his mouth, earned what Xander could muster of a glare while his throat burned and convulsed. He groped for some water, only to have the ninja push a bowl of rice into his hands instead.

“Water will make the burn worse. This should cut it quickly,” Kaze explained. His lips were still turned into an involuntary smile.

In too much discomfort to evaluate whether or not he should trust Kaze a second time, Xander filled his mouth with rice. Within a few swallows, the heat blessedly started to subside.

“You should have warned me,” he huffed once his mouth was empty again.

The other man bowed his head, likely to hide the amusement he was unable to control. “I didn’t expect you to eat such a large piece of ginger at once. My deepest apologies, Prince Xander. I promise to be more vigilant in the future.”

“See to it that you do,” Xander snapped. 

He expelled one last cough to reopen his fully ‘refreshed’ airways and regain his princely composure. It was only then he noted that Kaze wasn’t smiling anymore. There was a guilty sag to his shoulders, heavy like someone had perched a wyvern on his back. 

As unpleasant as eating that slice had been, Xander didn’t believe the ninja had set him up for humiliation on purpose. More importantly, he had helped to rectify the situation as soon as he realized the prince ate too much. Kaze didn’t deserve to feel like he had wronged the royal family because of a harmless mistake, and Xander still hoped to learn more about him and Hoshido now that this harrowing experience was behind them.

Determined to set things back to right, the prince continued, “Of course, I’ll need your help navigating the rest of this meal. Will you accompany to my table for dinner to prevent any fatal mistakes? Clearly, I may not survive on my own.”

Hearing the unspoken forgiveness, Kaze straightened, the weight lifted. “It would be my pleasure, Prince Xander,” he said.

Although Kaze didn’t smile again despite the rare show of self-deprecating humor, Xander saw a glint of something warm in his eyes. The prince decided it was a pleasant addition to an already handsome face.


	4. The Fourth Meeting - Friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An exceptionally long wait, but I haven't forgotten this story. Hopefully it won't be another half a year for the last chapter. ;)

Their fourth meeting could more aptly be called the fourth pivotal event of their relationship, as by that time the pair had already spent months in conjoined company. They were comfortable with one another as only two men with the same priorities in life could be. Although status and nationality threatened to keep them apart during their time with the army, there were some events which made all men equal. Staring down certain death in the form of an ancient, evil dragon was one of them.

Kaze found a perch high on the ruins, stating the need to scout, but quickly turning to morbid thoughts as he watched his fellow soldiers face their likely end with varying degrees of dignity. Some, like Aqua and Shura, had peeled away from the ruckus of camp to seek a place of peace before the coming storm. Others had clung to those closest to them, most notably Princess Camilla ordering both Beruka and Selena not to leave her tent tonight. Others still pursued debaucherous mischief to chase away their fear. Many of the Nohrians followed this method, from Charlotte letting her true self fly free among the men to Niles threatening to pick them up after they rejected her, but Laslow and Odin in particular seemed determined to forget their names tonight with how heavily they drank. 

Kaze's own brother had only placed a hand on his shoulder, telling him not to die tomorrow. He couldn't be expected to share a sentimental final meal with his twin because unlike Kaze, he had prince to guard tonight. The Hoshidan royal family was busy honoring the parents they had seen as twisted, ghostly apparitions here in Valla, and Saizo would be with Kagero and the other royal retainers, ensuring their lives weren't disturbed as they grieved and prepared for the coming battle.

It was lonely in this corner of the ruins, watching his comrades from afar instead of joining them. Kaze didn't have the heart to be among them tonight, pretending he didn't dread the coming of the dawn and losing what small life he'd carved out for himself in this army. A disposable ninja was not allowed to fear death. Another way Saizo surpassed him, Kaze supposed.

His reflection was interrupted by the padded thud of a knight’s confident stride approaching from the rear.

“Might I join you?”  A regal voice greeted when the footsteps stilled.

“Prince Xander?” Kaze took to his feet like a rising wave, twisting about to face the newcomer so he could bow properly. “What brings you here?”

Xander’s eyes looked past him to the camp beyond, listening to faint sound of laughter bouncing off the fallen city’s rubble. “I realized I did not want to spend these last hours alone. I was hoping you wouldn’t mind the intrusion. It wouldn’t do for them to see me fear our fate tomorrow.”

“Then it seems our minds are as one tonight,” Kaze said. He hadn’t known how much he wished for charitable company until it marched up here to meet him.

Kaze gestured to a stone step in front of them, crumbling at the edges, but still wide enough for two grown men to sit upon. He waited for Xander to seat himself first. The rustle of the prince’s soft boots and breeches was far less was obtrusive than the clang of armor he usually wore as commander, something appreciated by the ninja who had come here to enjoy the quiet. Kaze sat next to him, silent as a bird before a storm, and gazed out over the field of glowing campfires.

Xander broke their reverie first, though he didn’t look at Kaze while he spoke. “Do you ever wonder how different your life would be if you were one of them?”

“...yes,” Kaze admitted. He’d never said it aloud before, but facing down his doom with a stalwart companion was not a time for secrets and regrets. “But it’s a wasteful thought. I am who I am. Saizo the Fourth’s second son, bound by duty and honor to devote my spirit to Hoshido until I exhale my final breath.”

“Mm. And it is the same for me and Nohr. Still, a night like this makes you wonder whether a man can ever live up to those expectations.” 

Xander’s eyes fell from the horizon. Reaching into the v of his tunic, he pulled out a delicate golden chain that hung around his neck. His fingers toyed with an elaborate golden ring threaded on it, its dark, sparkling crystals seeming to contain all of Nohr’s sky in their facets. Something so delicate seemed absurd in a warrior’s hands. He cradled it like a newborn kitten, afraid a firm touch might snap it in two.

“My mother’s,” Xander explained, though Kaze hadn’t said anything. “I’ve been waiting to see her here. I thought this would help me remember myself if I needed to fight her.”

It had been the talk of the camp after Queen Mikoto, Queen Arete, and King Sumeragi were encountered in Valla. They all had considered the possibility of fighting a lost love one under Anankos’ control, mostly with trepidation. For those who had been close enough to hear their final words, however, there was also a sense of longing. One did not become a soldier without demons of friends or family. How sweet it would be to hear loving words from their mouths one final time.

But days passed and no other familiar faces came. No family. No friends. No lovers. Not even a single Nohrian. There were many reasons that could be, but for men as demanding of themselves as them, only one stuck in the mind like a blood-caked blade glued to its sheath with gore.

“You think she hasn’t come because you’ve failed as a son somehow,” Kaze speculated.

Xander hummed without sentiment. “Why do you say that?”

“...I’ve felt the same with my own parents.”

His father, specifically. To the Saizo of his youth, Kaze would always be the lesser brother, the mistake-maker, the unworthy one. When his father passed, it took with him any chance of atonement. He had been foolish to hope the Saizo would come back from beyond the grave to meet his failed son, even if it was to kill him.

An encouraging warmth enveloped Kaze’s hand. Xander squeezed gently until their eyes met and murmured, “Then I’m grateful I don’t have to face it alone.”

It felt rude to look upon such intense emotions from a man so usually guarded, so Kaze turned away to supervise camp once again. He entwined their fingers further in silent response, leaning in to rest his head on Xander’s shoulder. Kaze considered asking the crown prince to forgo his pauldrons more often before dismissing the request as a foolish whim brought on by exceptional circumstance. Still, he couldn’t deny the warm, sturdy muscle made a comforting pillow.

“...will you stay with me to watch the dawn?” Xander whispered as the fires died down like stars being snuffed by the rising sun. The new day would be here soon.

“I would be honored,” Kaze whispered back.

It would be the following morning after an arduous battle which illuminated a peaceful world for them all, but the sunrise they watched together was the only one they remembered in the years to come.


End file.
